


the comfort of your hand in mine

by memento_amare



Series: old work (from Tumblr) [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Best Friends, Childhood Friends, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Movie Night, Mutual Pining, Pining, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, old work but yup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:22:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26312581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memento_amare/pseuds/memento_amare
Summary: all is right when your hands find each other.
Relationships: Sugawara Koushi/Reader
Series: old work (from Tumblr) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911856
Comments: 2
Kudos: 73





	the comfort of your hand in mine

**Author's Note:**

> this is an old work from Tumblr but it's one of my favorites :">

if the eyes are the windows to one’s soul, the hands are the document of one’s story. each scar, callous, line, and curve etched into skin tell the tale of one’s life.

and you, who has known koushi since the moment you could even begin to remember, can say, without missing a beat, that you can pick out which hands are his even with your eyes closed.

holding his hand has been a habit for as long as you have known him. whenever he’s beside you, whenever you’re scared, whenever you have something to tell him, you grab it on instinct. you’re not the best with words, so you convey your thoughts through the press of your palm against his.

and perhaps you’ve done it so often now, that his automatic response is to intertwine your fingers with his. the path his thumb traces along the back of your hand is tattooed into your skin, a familiar rhythm of back-and-forth that beats to the comfort of his warmth.

you’ve felt his hands change over the course of the years: his fingers have grown long and slender, slowly developing calluses over his years of volleyball. the pads of his thumbs are just that little bit rougher, but still ever so gentle.

_it’s always been him._

you’ve known it from the start.

he’s the one who finishes your sentences, the one who can bring you into a fit of giggles with a single word, and the one who you can trust to order for you when you’re running late.

he’s the one you call at midnight because you know by instinct he’s still awake, the one you cry to at 2am after your boyfriend breaks up with you over text, and the only one you’d bear the pain of tight-lipped smiles for whenever he has a date with his then-girlfriend.

you realize it when you find yourself waking up at 3am, unable to sleep, looking at the sky from your window and thinking that they don’t compare to the starlight in your best friend’s hair. you remember the way he’d hold your hand when you spent nights like these as children.

falling for him was waking up at 3am and wondering how you could have not seen it all along.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

“are you two a couple?”

“y/n and i aren’t dating.” he doesn’t look away from his locker, but the tips of his ears are flushed red.

“i didn’t even say anyone yet.”

he looks up to daichi’s raised brow and smug smirk. sugawara’s face goes from pink to crimson red, realizing he was caught.

“you’re both dumbasses,” he rolls his eyes, closing the door of the club room behind him and leaving sugawara to his thoughts.

anyone can see it: the way his eyes would light up whenever you walk in a room. the way you cheer him during games. the way you talk about each other, voice soft at edges with something deeper than platonic affection.

it’s clear as day to everyone but the two of you.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

sometimes he thinks about how glad he is that you had been the one to initiate the contact. he never would have done it himself; he used to be such a shy little thing back when you were children.

though it’s difficult to initiate, it’s breathtakingly easy to return the contact, to wiggle his fingers in between yours and move his thumb across the back of your hand. the slow friction has burned the memory of your skin into his mind through years and years of tracing that familiar path.

no matter how many times he’s tried––and of course, he has tried––courting girls and even being in a relationship twice over the course of the years, but even then it’s never quite as _home_ as he feels when he’s with you.

the pads of his thumbs and the spaces between his fingers know you by touch alone.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

college is utter hell, but at the very least, you find the time to spend with each other, even if it is just to huddle together and maybe watch netflix.

you were borrowing one of his many shirts and sweatpants, towel slung over your shoulders to catch the water from your damp hair. everything should be so innocuous, so _innocent,_ yet he feels as though he’s about to lose his damn mind. checking out his childhood best friend is _damn awkward_ , even after years of catching himself doing it.

for a while though, it’s alright. the room is quiet, and the movie is a welcome distraction from the thoughts running around his mind. except. he can’t help but glance at you from time to time, seeing your eyes glued to the screen, face bathed in different colors as the movie shifts from scene to scene.

something in him begins to fray, a fragile thread that’s been hanging precariously since the moment you emerged from _his_ room wearing _his_ clothes.

but it’s more than that. it’s _years_ in the making, droplets in a dam now finally ready to burst from the pressure.

“koushi, just watch the movie,” you whisper, not daring to look away from the laptop. you’re thankful that the violet and red glow of the movie’s colors manage to hide the fiery blush on your face that has been there since five minutes ago. after another five minutes, you pause the movie, concerned, a little bit annoyed, and a little bit anxious. your heart flutters in your chest as you ask, “are you okay?”

he kisses you.

finally his thought process begins. with a slowly sinking horror, he realizes this is it, you’ll slip out from between his fingers and he’s going to lose sixteen years’ worth of friendship because of two seconds of stupidity.

it’s a peck, barely a proper kiss. yet blood rushes to his face almost immediately after, the blush not a mere dust of pink across his cheeks but in a flood of red all over his face. and oh. your mind is blank, all thought concentrated on the point where his lips just met your own. _oh._

all inhibitions fly out the window. “again,” you whisper, “do it again.” the laptop lies forgotten on the coffee table as you straddle him, and it’s only you, him, and the wooden frame under the cushion of the couch digging into the small of his back.

he cups your face in his hands, gently slanting your head to deepen the kiss. his mind is in overload, taking in everything at once: your lips, the brush of your thighs, the swish of your hair as it falls in a curtain around him.

but suddenly you press your hands over where they frame your cheeks, pulling them away to lace your fingers together. and the gesture utterly unravels him.

“i think i’m in love with you.” he says while pulling away, gasping, brain too muddled to think of anything else to say.

“good. so am i.” it’s a whisper, barely audible over the thrum of his heartbeat. “idiot,” your lips ghost against his as you giggle, “would i have kissed you if i wasn’t?”

he raises your hands, still laced together, and presses a kiss to your knuckles, laughing softly. he relishes in this quiet warmth, the feeling of home he finds in the way your fingers slit in between his. in that moment, it all comes full circle.

_it’s always been you._

life will carve its story onto your hands and his. you will memorize each new scar, callous, line, and crease as they come, for you have etched the feeling of each others’ hands onto your souls.


End file.
